Midnight Dolls (7 page)

Caleb and I exchange looks. I shrug, and he follows my father around the side of the house while I head inside.

As I round the corner into the living room, I see a guy my age with slightly overgrown blondish hair, long eyelashes, deep dimples, and broad shoulders. “Hi there.” His voice is deep, warm, and tinged with a Georgia accent. I feel vaguely disloyal to Caleb for the unexpected surge of attraction that shoots through me.

“Hey,” I say, staring at him.

“You're Eveny,” he says with a smile as he steps forward. He takes my hand gently, and the second we make contact, all the hair on my arm stands on end. “I'm Bram, your brother king.”

“Bram,” I repeat in a whisper, and as he continues to smile warmly at me, I suddenly feel safe. I wonder if it's because of the magical connection between us, the fact that we're two leaders in the same sosyete. “It's, um, nice to meet you.”

“And you.” He's still shaking my hand, and when he finally stops, it takes him a moment to actually let go.

“So,” I say.

“So.” He waits for me to speak.

“You're Simon's son?”

“Yes.”

“You painted me. On the bridge.” I feel foolish the moment the words are out of my mouth, but Bram looks amused.

“You spotted that,” he says, smiling at me. “I'm relieved to see I captured you accurately.”

“Your dad said you dreamed of me?” I can feel my cheeks heating up; it's weird to imagine this hot guy lying in bed at night thinking about me. “How?”

“Andaba connects us. Maybe you've dreamed of me too and didn't even realize it. Do I seem familiar to you?”

I nod slowly. The way he's looking at me—warmly, like we're already old friends—is both comforting and disconcerting at the same time. “You're a king?”

He chuckles, the sound rising up from somewhere deep in his chest. “Since November, when I turned seventeen. It takes some getting used to, doesn't it?”

“Understatement of the year.”

“I'd imagine it's even more unsettling for you. After all, I grew up with this. To you, it's all new.” His expression is pleasant, his eyes full of compassion.

“Yeah. You're right.” I finally relax a little. “It's nice to meet someone who finally understands that.”

His brow creases. “Your sister queens in Carrefour don't?”

“I think they're too busy worrying about their hair.” I half intend it as a joke, so I feel a bit guilty when he frowns.

“That's got to be really frustrating,” he says.

“They mean well,” I hurry to add. “Honestly. They're not so bad.”

“Well,” he says after a pause. “I suppose I'll find out for myself soon enough. They're here with you, aren't they?”

I nod just as my father and Caleb come in through the back door. I suddenly feel as if I'm betraying Caleb in some way and take a big step back from Bram. As Caleb stares Bram down, the air between them seems to crackle with tension.

“Well,” my father says after a moment, clearing his throat and glancing at me. “Caleb, allow me to introduce Eveny's brother king, Bram Saxon.”

He reluctantly reaches out to shake hands with Bram. “So you painted that bridge?” Caleb asks.

“Sure did.”

“Weird that you're dreaming of Eveny,” Caleb says. He walks away before Bram can reply.

Bram turns to me. “Is he always so polite?”

“That's just Caleb. Don't worry. He's . . . protective.”

Bram's eyes bore into mine until I can feel my cheeks flaming. “Yeah, well, so am I.”

“Eveny,” my father says, interrupting the sizzling silence between us. “I have some news for you. Bram here,” he says, then pauses. “Well, he'll be moving to Carrefour immediately.”

“Wait, what?” I stare at him, then at Bram.

“Simon, George, and I believe it's for the best, and Peregrine's and Chloe's mothers have agreed to open the gate to allow Bram and his uncle Bill into town.”

“But . . . why?” I ask, baffled.

My father sighs. “Caleb's judgment is compromised,” he says, glancing toward the stairway. “Because Bram has andaba powers too, you and he can be very powerful together. Simon is needed here, so Bram will come with his uncle as his guardian instead. It will be helpful to have him with you to protect you.”

“But I don't need protecting,” I say. “And Caleb is doing just fine. I don't need Bram.” I glance up at Bram, who's staring at me now. “No offense or anything.”

“None taken.” He gives me another small smile, and I'm startled to feel my pulse quicken immediately in response.

“The decision has already been made,” my father says. “He'll relocate this weekend and will start school with you on Monday.”

“But—” I begin.

“Eveny, you need to trust that this is for the best,” my father says, cutting me off. He turns to Bram and says, “Your father asked me to tell you he's expecting you at home.”

Bram nods and turns to me. His eyes hold mine for what seems like a full minute. I feel pinned by his gaze, and I wonder fleetingly if he's using some sort of magic on me. “Eveny,” he says finally, his voice smooth and deep, like dark molasses. “I look forward to getting to know you better.”

He nods at my father, and I stare after him, perplexed and shaken, as he disappears out the front door.

I
head to Pointe Laveau Academy on Monday with my heart racing. I barely spoke to Caleb on the return trip from Caouanne Island, and I have the feeling that like me, he's wondering how Bram's arrival will change the dynamic here in Carrefour.

My father assured me Bram would be in school today, so I'm surprised when I don't see him all morning and when he doesn't join us in the Hickories for lunch, despite Peregrine's grudging invitation before we left the island. Caleb doesn't say a word to me at lunch, and Peregrine and Chloe are uncharacteristically quiet as Arelia and Margaux hurriedly arrange a platter of crudités in the center of our cashmere picnic blanket.

“Gin and tonic?” Margaux asks, glancing nervously at Peregrine and then at Chloe. I can almost see her wheels turning
as she tries to figure out where everyone vanished to all weekend without her. We promised our parents that we would keep our visit to Caouanne Island a secret for now.
You never know who you can trust
, my father had reminded us.

“Obviously,” Peregrine says, rolling her eyes. But even her derision feels halfhearted today.

“Have you seen him yet?” Chloe whispers as she sits down beside me. “Bram, I mean?”

I shake my head.

“He's cute, don't you think?” she asks.

I shrug. “I don't know.” The truth is, I feel like I'm being disloyal to Caleb if I say it out loud.

I finally encounter Bram in fifth period American history, the one class I share with Caleb. In fact, I'm so distracted with acting like Caleb's silent treatment isn't bothering me that I don't even notice Bram come into the room until Ms. Sargent asks for our attention. When I look up, he's standing there beside her, looking perfect in his standard-issue Pointe Laveau khakis and oxford, which he's wearing with boat shoes. His eyes fall on me, and he holds my gaze for a long moment before smiling slowly and looking away.

“Quiet down, folks,” Ms. Sargent says, peering over the rims of her glasses, “and please help me welcome Pointe Laveau's newest student, Bram Saxon, who will be joining us for the remainder of the school year.”

Bram half raises his hand in greeting. “Hey, y'all,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly. I can feel Caleb's eyes on me, but I
resist the urge to turn around.

“Bram, there's an empty seat beside Eveny Cheval there,” Ms. Sargent says, gesturing to me. “Eveny, can you raise your hand so that Bram knows where to go?”

“Oh, I know who Eveny is,” Bram says. As his eyes lock with mine again, he smiles steadily. He doesn't break eye contact until he sits down beside me.

“Hey, you,” he says in a low voice a moment later, once Ms. Sargent has started lecturing on the Great Depression.

I give him a smile. “Hey. And, um, welcome.”

“Thanks, Eveny.” His eyes, I realize a bit distractedly as he blinks at me, are the exact color of New York's Hudson River during a storm: deep gray with tiny flecks of blue. “That school uniform suits you, you know. You look really pretty.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Listen,” he says a moment later as Ms. Sargent drones on in the front of the room. “Are you and I cool?”

I just look at him. I want to tell him that we're the opposite of “cool,” because my cheeks feel warm, and my heart is racing, which I can't understand. But I have the feeling that's not what he's asking about.

“Me being forced on you like this . . . ,” he continues, his voice trailing off. He shakes his head. “Well, if I were in your shoes, I'd be kind of upset. But I hope you know there's nothing I'm trying to do here except protect you.”

“I'm not upset,” I manage. “But I really don't need protecting.” I glance over at Caleb, and this time, I catch him
looking right at me. I shoot him a small, tentative smile, and although he looks guilty to have been caught staring, he gives me a slight smile in return before eyeing Bram and then turning away. Again, I can almost feel the chill in the air between them, and it unsettles me.

“I know you have Caleb to look out for you,” Bram says a moment later. “But I want to help. If I can play even a small role in making sure you're safe, I'll be happy. So we're okay, you and me?”

“You and me?” I say, flustered. “Yeah, of course.”

After class, Caleb hurries out without a glance, so I sigh and begin packing up my bag. When I look up, Bram is standing beside my desk. “What's your next class?” he asks.

Something flutters in my stomach. “Physics.”

He looks at his schedule. “I'm headed to trig in room 114. Any chance that's the direction you're headed?”

“Um, yeah, I'm actually right across the hall.”

“In that case,” he says with a smile, “can I walk you to class?”

Bram falls into step beside me, and I can't help comparing him to Caleb as we make our way down the hall. He's about the same height, with the same broad shoulders. But other than that, he's the physical opposite of Caleb. Caleb's hair is close-cropped and black, while Bram's is longer and lighter. Caleb's eyes are the blue of a sunny sky, while Bram's are the gray of a stormy one. And Bram's pale, slightly freckled skin, which looks a lot like mine, is a sharp contrast to the
brown smoothness of Caleb's skin.

“So,” I begin, in an attempt to think about something—anything—other than Caleb, “where were you at lunch, by the way? You can eat with us, you know. If you want.”

“No offense, but those girls you hang out with, well, let's just say they're not my cup of tea.”

I smile at his old-fashioned choice of words. “Mine either, I guess. But you'll get used to them.”

“Maybe. Anyhow, I'll think about joining you for lunch. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Well,” I say with faux brightness as we arrive outside the classroom, “your trig class is right in there.” I nod toward the door.

“Thanks, Eveny,” Bram says, and the way his voice rumbles does something strange to me. “See you later.”

“Sure.”

“Oh wait!” He pauses at the door, digs in his pocket for a second, and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “I drew this last period. It's for you.”

I take it from him and he disappears into the classroom without another word. I unfold the piece of paper after he's gone, and I see that he's drawn a beautiful sketch of me, my chin propped on my hand as I study my textbook intently.

That evening, Aunt Bea is working late, and my father and Boniface are nowhere to be found, so I grab a Lean Cuisine meal from the freezer, microwave it, and settle in to eat by
myself while reviewing for the French test I have on Wednesday. I've just taken the first bite when I hear the front door open.

“Eveny?” my father calls from the front hall.

“In the kitchen!”

He rounds the corner a moment later, and I'm about to ask if he wants me to make some spaghetti or something when Caleb appears behind him, looking exhausted and unsettled.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out, then immediately turn red. I can feel my cheeks flaming.

Caleb opens his mouth to answer, but my father cuts in. “He'll be staying with us for a while.”

“Staying with us?” I repeat. “Like in our house?”

“That's right,” my father says. “Oscar and Patrick will be doing the same for Chloe and Peregrine. After the attack on you on Thursday, the mothers and their sosyete have decided it's best not to put anyone at further risk, which means taking every precaution available. I don't necessarily agree, but Caleb is one of those precautions.”

Caleb looks up, then clears his throat and glances away again.

“But . . . what about his mom?” I ask. “Won't she be alone? Is that safe?”

“She'll be fine,” my dad says. “She's not a target for Main de Lumière. And the mothers have promised to arrange a protective charm around her house.”

“Well,” Aunt Bea interjects from the doorway. I didn't
hear her come in. “I'm so pleased you've worked all of this out without consulting the rest of us, Matthias.” She's glaring at my dad, and my stomach swims uncomfortably.

“This wasn't my idea,” my father says, glancing at Caleb, who looks at the ground. “But it's what we're going to do.”

“And you're in a position to be making decisions for Eveny now?” she shoots back.

“I'm just trying to do what's best for her,” my father says.

“Are you? Are you really?” Aunt Bea says. “Because it seems to me that everything bad that's happened to this family revolves around
you
, Matthias.”

“Aunt Bea!” I say sharply. I know she doesn't like my dad, but she's been quiet about it up until now. Having her snapping at him in the kitchen like this, especially in front of Caleb, makes me uneasy. “Can we talk about this later?” I add.

“When, Eveny?” she asks, turning toward me, her eyes flashing. “After he's ruined our lives too? After he's once again brought the enemy right to us?”

“What are you talking about, Bea?” my father says. I'm surprised to hear sadness in his tone instead of anger. “You're not being reasonable.”

“Aren't I? And I suppose it's just coincidence that mere weeks after you show up, Main de Lumière is sending its henchmen after Eveny again?” she snaps. “Feels an awful lot like déjà vu, if you ask me.”

My father flinches. “I didn't have anything to do with that.”

“Aunt Bea, I agree with him,” I say, and she gives me a look so mournful that I feel instantly like I'm betraying her. I take a deep breath and add, “I'm sorry, but what you're saying isn't fair.”

“Isn't it?” she says, the venom in her voice growing as she turns back to my dad. “Don't you see? We were doing just fine in Carrefour before your father came along twenty years ago. Then he broke your mother's heart and left us defenseless after leading Main de Lumière to our doorsteps.”

“You can't keep blaming me for that, Bea!” my father protests. I'm surprised to see tears glistening in his eyes. “No one was more devastated by Sandrine's death than I was.”

“That's not true,” Aunt Bea says, her voice suddenly dangerously soft. She turns to look at me. “Sandrine's daughter was.
Your
daughter, Matthias. Her mother is dead, and all you can think about all these years later is how it impacted you.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Aunt Bea silences me with a look. “Stay out of it, Eveny,” she says. “This is between me and your father.”

Caleb moves over to where I'm standing and surprises me by placing a hand on my shoulder. It's not until he touches me that I realize my heart is racing a mile a minute.

“I
know
Eveny was devastated,” my father says. “And I'll never be able to make that up to her. But what do you expect me to do? I would have given anything to be there to see my daughter grow up, Bea. But Sandrine asked me to leave. She said that Eveny would never have a normal childhood as long
as I was around, and I agreed. Main de Lumière would have realized much sooner that Eveny was the child of two magical traditions.”

“But they realized anyhow, didn't they?” Aunt Bea says. “And I'm the one who kept her safe. But it wasn't enough, was it? You had to come back and screw it all up again.”

“
I'm
the one who screwed it up?” my dad says. “Maybe you could have raised her with
some
concept about her background, so she wouldn't be so defenseless now!”

“Well, maybe if you hadn't been so busy gallivanting around the world, you could have taught her about her heritage yourself.” Aunt Bea crosses her arms.

“Guys—” I say, trying to step between them. But it's like I haven't spoken. I'm not even sure they're aware I'm in the room anymore.

“For God's sake, Bea, I wasn't gallivanting!” my father says. “I was trying to find a solution to the Main de Lumière problem. My whole
life
has been about protecting my daughter.”

“No one asked you to do that,” Aunt Bea snaps.

“Sandrine did! Not that she had to. Eveny's my child, Bea. There's nothing in the world more important to me than keeping her safe.”

“If only you'd felt that way about my sister too,” Aunt Bea shoots back. “Maybe she'd still be alive.”

“Stop it, you guys!” I cry. My father and Aunt Bea both turn to look at me in surprise. “Just stop! What's happened has happened, okay? You can't keep blaming each other for
it. My childhood was fine, but it's over now. It doesn't matter who did what.”

“Eveny—” my father begins, but I cut him off. I can't hear any more of this.

“Enough!” I say. “You're my father, and I owe you some respect for that.” I turn to Aunt Bea. “And you're the one who raised me, which I'll never be able to repay you for. I love you both. But this is
my
fight. This is
my
town. And if you want to do what's right for me, you'll stop arguing with each other and help me figure out how to save it.”

They both stare at me as I turn and stride out of the room. It's not until I've slammed the door to my bedroom that I realize I can barely breathe.